


Don’t Avoid Nevada Ramirez (Or Do, If You’re Up For It) (Nevada Ramirez)

by RockWithItWriting



Category: Nevada Ramirez - Fandom, Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 07:04:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9480407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting/pseuds/RockWithItWriting
Summary: requested by anonymous:Sex in a public place with Nevada? I need some dirty hot Nevada in my life pls





	

You knew it was wrong. Oh, God, you knew it was wrong but Nevada Ramirez was so right. He was so right in all the wrong ways, all sharp corners and harsh words and strong hips with hot lips. He was everything you were warned against in your childhood, everything you heard horror stories about in high school, everything college told you not to get into.

And you still got into it. You kissed Nevada and loved him, you touched and pulled and pushed and yelled and you thought about loving him but you always pushed that away to push him into bed except you couldn’t do that anymore. You couldn’t ignore the fact that he called you love and he didn’t step out on you, he didn’t go see any of his whores anymore, didn’t look at other girls. Some people told you that your name was kept out of everyone’s mouth besides Nevada’s, that his men followed you even though you didn’t know it, that Nevada was putting money aside to keep you up in a nice house, with nice things, without a job so you could have a nice life. A nice life with him.

The thought wasn’t so bad. And the thought that it wasn’t so bad scared you to the point you abstained for six days and tried to avoid Nevada, but it was true. His men followed you, kept an eye on you, not to control you but to protect you. And you didn’t know it until you were in the grocery story looking for dinner because your birthday was coming up and you wanted to cook a large dinner for yourself, even if you were going to spend it alone. (As if you thought Nevada Ramirez could leave you alone on your birthday without mindblowing sex or extravagant gifts.)

But the grocery store was the last place you expected to see Nevada because that man did not do his own grocery shopping- you were surprised he wiped his own ass. But he was there, fingering a bag of chips on the shelf. It was as if he was waiting on you to round the corner with your cart, absentmindedly tracing the necklace on your chest. You warmed when you saw him but then your eyes fell to the ground as you felt the fear creep in. You knew that Nevada had killed for offenses less than ignoring him, such as even crossing his path on a bad day.

You were afraid to imagine what Nevada would do to you and that made you step back when he stepped toward you. Every step you took back eared a tsk from Nevada and eventually he reached out and pulled you to his chest, one arm wrapped around your back and the other coming up against your chest so he could cradle your face between his fingers. He forced you to look into his eyes, squishing your cheeks between his fingers. He placed a kiss on your fish-lips before giving you a snarky smirk.

“You think you can run from me, ah?” He cooed, “I know where everyone is, amor. I ‘specially know where you are. Why you runnin’, huh? Thought you liked me.” You flushed as Nevada let go of your face and pushed you against the shelf, hips snapping against yours, “Think you can dip out when your fuckin’ birthday is comin’ up? Got you a gift, ‘nd the gift ain’t my cock.”

Without thinking, like most things happened when you were around Nevada, you huskily whispered, “The gift is always your cock, Nevada.” He sighed as he moved his hips in small circles, leaning in just before his lips were touching yours. You wondered, as Nevada held you so you couldn’t move, if he could get off from just circling his hips against yours. The thought made you moan, made you wrap your fingers around one of Nevada’s wrist, the other hand around the back of his throat. You loved how intimately you were wrapped together and you loved it so much that you didn’t remember you were pressed against a shelf of soda, didn’t remember that you were in your local grocer, didn’t remember that you knew people. All you could remember was Nevada and his scent, his hips, the way his breath over your face smelt like mint and cigars and the warmth made your eyes flutter close and your mouth fall open.

When someone rounded the corner your eyes flickered open but Nevada kept your head in place, kept you pinned against the shelves, and only turned his head. You could only imagine the look the person was getting, his mouth barely open, eyes dark and green as he glared at them from under his eyelashes. It was oddly erotic and you let out a breathy moan before Nevada spoke. “The store? Empty it. Esta tienda es mía por una hora. I will pay the owner for his time.” You assumed it was one of Nevada’s men, but it could have been anyone. You had been on the receiving end of that look, whether on your knees or in an SUV, and it compelled you to do whatever Nevada wanted.

(Not that you weren’t going to do that in the first place, but the glare made heat pool in your stomach, made your synapses fire ten times as fast as normal, made your heart thud to a stop.)

He turned back to you and kissed you, finally. You loved kissing Nevada, loved the way he commanded control even intimately, loved the way his lips tasted and the way his tongue massaged yours and the way he pushed into you as he kissed you, taking your moans and giving you his own. You loved the way it was the perfect mix of sloppy and intimate, of teeth and lips. You loved how people told you Nevada never kissed any of his other fucks, never held them close or looked into their eyes when the shook and came apart underneath him. He treated you like you were his world, like he would die for you and kill for you, like he had never treated anyone else. He gave you respect, commanded respect for you.

Nevada Ramirez didn’t even do that for his mother. Only for you, only for you.

Only for you.

The man Nevada was talking to must have came back because Nevada stopped circling his hips, breathing heavily as he pressed his erection into you, looking back to the person he was talking to. “The cameras, turn them off. I have plenty of time to make a movie at home, I don’t need one on CCTV.” You laughed and moaned at the same time, thinking about Nevada fucking you for a camera, for someone to watch. He fucked you like he needed you to live but when Nevada was showing off? When he took in the club while he was making a business deal? When he was taking you, hard, in the back of his SUV as his men drove him around?

That was fucking. That was the most hard, fast, and dirty sex of your life and the most pleasure anyone, including yourself, had ever given you. When Nevada fucked you not for you, not for him, but for someone else it was the best.

But you also like when Nevada took you at home, your home, and he laid on top of you in bed and held you and kissed you. You liked the way he held your eye gaze, the way he caressed you and kissed you and held your hands.

Nevada Ramirez was a master of sex and he reminded you of that when he leant down and sucked a light hickey, a teasing hicky, on the side of your jaw. He sighed against your skin and traced his nose until his lips were grazing the shell of your ear, “I love the way your skin tastes,” He whispered, “You taste like sweat and desperation.” The thought of Nevada kissing your skin and your lips but not your lips made you shiver and Nevada bit the shell of your ear without hesitating before pulling away.

Your knees almost gave out underneath you and you steadied yourself against the shelf behind you as Nevada let his leather jacket fall over the bar of your cart, pointing to the floor while he unbuckled his belt. “I know it’s your birthday soon, but you ain’t been ‘round for couple of days. You better be good to me, yeah?”

Your eyes fluttered closed as you fell to your knees, nodding and pushing your hair out of your face. You knew what Nevada liked, you knew he loved it when you licked your lips and you nipped at his thighs, he liked it when you took him as far as you could and loved it when you took him farther. You knew he liked to come on your face but he didn’t care that you didn’t want to risk and eye infection and swallowed his load.

So when Nevada pushed his jeans down you gasped, just like the first time he did that, the first time you sucked him off while you were both drunk. And, just like that first time, you leaned forward to kiss the tip of his penis, slowly licking up the shaft as he sighed above you. You sucked on his head and then pulled away to kiss at his thighs, your pointer finger circling his balls before finding that place, the one place that made your best friend go glossy eye’d just thinking about in college, telling you about that place between the balls and the ass that made grown men cry. He had called it the clitoris of the man and Nevada could come from just that if you tried hard enough.

You rubbed a knuckle against the sensitive spot and listened as he sucked in a breath, one heavy hand resting on your head. You massaged small circles with your knuckle as you turned your attention to Nevada’s prick and sucked it into your mouth, letting your throat relax around him as he sighed, head tipping backward. You loved to watch him, loved to watch the way the tension fell from his shoulders, the way he smiled and praised you, the way his hands urged you on. You pulled away, mouth and hands, before smirking up at Nevada. He looked down at you, dark, green eyes and flushed cheeks, lips formed in a pout as his eyebrows furrowed and he grunted at you.

“Is this all about you?” Your voice teased him, low and husky, like Nevada liked. He liked when you took control but you never had control; no matter what you did, tying Nevada up, edging him, anything, he was always in control and you knew it. You knew it, you loved it, you wished you were with him more than nights at clubs, mornings at his house, afternoons thinking about him.

Nevada’s eyes darkened again and his fingers pinched the cartilage of your ear, twisting it, “Right now it is, amor.” You sucked in a breath and nodded, closing your eyes and relishing in the pain. It was small, just a spark amongst the fire of your arousal burning through your body to the tips of your fingers, the ends of your toes. It made your thighs quake, you spine tingle, your hands shake. It was delicious, you craved it, you loved it.

Just the way Nevada was delicious, you craved him, you loved him.

The thought struck you, that you loved him, and you sucked him back into your mouth as you mulled it over. Nevada hummed above you, groaned, thrusted, held you down and pushed you off before you could make him come. And you always did, never failed to, when you were on your knees or laid over the bed with his cock in your mouth. You made him come with your words, your body, your mind, your everything and he knew that as much as you did.

“Up,” He said, “Get up, amor. Let’s do this, yeah? In a grocery store. How dirty. You’re so dirty, only for me.” Nevada jerked you toward him with a hand on your shoulder, the other tucking his prick into his boxers as the kiss progressed from chaste to open, hot, dirty. You groaned and pulled away as Nevada dipped to suck a dark hickey under your ear, “Only for me, aye?”

“Only for you, Nevada.” You clung to him to his black button down, “I’m only yours.” You gasped when Nevada pushed you back and pulled your shirt off of you, returning to the kiss only seconds later. You were in love with his lips, oh, God, Nevada’s lips. They were so amazing, no matter what he was doing, so soft and pink and skilled; they hid his tongue or held your lips open to allow his tongue to slip into your mouth. You loved everything about his mouth, but moreso you were stuck on realizing you were in love with Nevada Ramirez.

(When he told his mother, whom he still visited regularly though he didn’t protect her as he did you, that her first grandson was conceived in a convenience store you wondered if it was right to love him but seeing the way his eyes lit up at the thought of a baby so when that happened you laughed with the both of them.)

Nevada spoke again as he undressed you, bra dropping to the floor, “Such a slut for me, only for me. Mine. Mine.” You whimpered, a combination of dirty talk, Nevada’s voice and his hands and his kisses, him calling you his. Only his. You’d only ever be his; his to hold, to kiss, to fuck, to protect, to love. But you didn’t know he loved you, not then, not watching him undress in a grocery store, leant against a shelf with only your panties on. You wouldn’t find out until you find the lines on the pregnancy test, until Nevada finds out you were seen going into a Planned Parenthood clinic, until he finds you crying over abortion pamphlets, adoption pamphlets, single parenthood pamphlets and yelled, screamed. He cried that day.

But that day was not the same as the grocery store day.

The day when Nevada layed you down in the cold linoleum and kissed down your body, suck hickeys into your hips, licked at your thighs, held you down and kissed your lips but not your lips. The day he told you how good you were being, how responsive you were, how he loved the taste of you, the smell of you, the sound of you, the feel of your thighs around his head as you came. The linoleum under you was coated with your sweat and body heat, the floor around your body, where you body wasn’t lying, was cold in comparison. It overrode your senses, everything you knew in that moment was Nevada, the cool floor, his hands on your hips.

Nevada kissed up at your body and hummed as he went, an unfamiliar Latin song that made your pulse jump. When he reached your lips you could taste your pleasure on them, taste Nevada’s work, the way he made you come undone with only his tongue. “Are you ready for me, amor? Ready for me to take you in this grocery store? Ready for me to make you drip down your thighs? I’m gonna leave your mess here so when we leave everyone knows what happened.” You moaned when you realized that Nevada was going to leave his clothing on, not even unbutton his shirt, while he fucked you.

“Neva-a-ada!” His name fell from your mouth as he pushed in, holding himself up with his ab muscles, pushing your legs apart and toward your chest as his head fell back, his mouth opened, his eyes closed. You knew he loved nothing than the feel of you, your heat, the way you responded to every movement he made. Nevada pulled out, nearly all the way, and your hands looked for some purchase on the ground as Nevada began picking up his speed, but you couldn’t find anything but the shelf behind you. He groaned, he moaned, you sighed and thought about crying because the way Nevada moved against you, in you, was heaven. It was your rapture, your death, your birth, your worst and best moments.

Nevada finally let your legs wrap around his waist and his hands found yours, keeping them pinned next to your head. He captured your lips in a heated kiss as his hips slowed and rolled into yours, going slow and deep, and you moaned into his mouth, gasping each time his hip bones kissed yours, taking Nevada’s tongue into your mouth when he willed it there, feeling his cock twitch inside of you.

You grabbed his shoulders, strong, there, so full and wide they made you feel small under him. That’s what Nevada did, though, made you feel small. Just in the way he spoke, sometimes about when you were there but like you weren’t, or the way he spoke to you- especially before he fucked the life out of you- or the way he stood above you or next to you or across the room from you. Nevada was a big man with a big personality and you loved how he could take up the whole room and stand in a corner with his sunglasses on.

“Say my name,” Nevada let go of one of your hands, using his own, large hand to hold onto your chin and force you to look at him. You sighed and felt your eyes clip closed before he squeezed and forced you to open them again, repeating his order.

“Nevada,” You sighed in time with one of his thrusts, “Nevada, Nevada, Nevada.” You loved it and you knew he loved it when you said his name, especially when it lined up with his thrusts. It made him feel powerful, made him feel like he was giving you the most pleasure of your life and he did, he always did, no matter what. Nevada was the master, your master, and you clung onto his hair with one hand, holding his with the other, as his grip on your jaw tightened, his mouth fell to your neck and he began sucking a hickey, groaning in tandem with your calls of his name as you both neared orgasm, you pushed by your sensitivity brought on by your first orgasm, Nevada’s from abstaining for six days.

(He rarely went a day without sex, perhaps that was the reason he didn’t wear a condom and you didn’t remember.)

When Nevada felt you begin to quiver, squirm underneath him he kissed you hot and open-mouthed with his eyes open, just the act of him watching you writhe beneath him, because of him, with him, made you come; you shuddered into Nevada’s mouth, one hand tugging on his hair, the other scratching down his back as his hips stilled, prick milked by your orgasm, and he came hard, silently staring you down. Nevada was never loud when he came, always silent and still with his eyes closed, brows furrowed, mouth hanging open. You loved him like that, so vulnerable, so beautiful, so at peace with the world around him, all because of you.

For a few moments the world around you was pure and peaceful, nothing but you and Nevada, two people made one, pleasure and pain and love and hate all at once. Finally Nevada pulled back, sitting up on his knees, as he ran one hand over his dick before tucking it back into his boxers, buttoning up his pants as he tried to pretend you didn’t look like the best thing to happen to him, laid out, naked and fucked out. “Get up, amor,” He rasped, voice raw from groaning, “I’m going to take you home and make you dinner. Real, Dominican food. My mother used to make it for me when I was a chico.” You nodded, but didn’t move, and Nevada laughed his breath before slipping your panties over your thighs, pulling you to your feet before he put your bra back on, kissing each breast before doing so, helping you dress the rest of the way.

“I don’t know why I was avoiding you,” Nevada turned back to you, eyebrows raised, “I was, I mean. But I don’t know why.”

“Neither do I, amor.” Nevada chuckled before continuing, taking your hand as he walked you to the front of the store where his men were on guard next to a very annoyed shopkeeper, “I got the best cock in town.”


End file.
